


Mr. Brightside

by carcinoGodhead



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carcinoGodhead/pseuds/carcinoGodhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Good scenario: John needs tutored in coding, Sollux reteaches him the entire course, John romances the hell out of Sollux, Sollux does le swoon but pretends not to because he's too cool for that, they want to do the do but life keeps being a superb cockblock/bulgeblock."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Brightside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agent_florida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/gifts).



> For the HS Rarepair Swap! Hope you like it, and I tried to make it seem like it was part of your AU's existing canon. Sorry that it's so short!

You love the way that his lips trace down your skin.

 

You also admit that was probably the cheesiest line you've ever dared to think in your head.

 

You’ll never really understand romance and the novels written by them, but you’ll admit to their appeal, as long as you have his hand to hold and catch and guide gently where both of you are embarrassingly eager to reach.

 

He is the only one that can coax you in circles around your cage of an existence, remind you on bad days that maybe there is something worth damn living for.

 

But enough of the flowery shit. You’ve got a _date_.

\--

EB: so, we still on for those epic coding sessions tonight?

EB: i still need help with the tilde ath stuff you were talking about!

EB: dave is going to hack my computer and i won’t be able to do anything.

EB: i need your skills, okay?

TA: yeah of cour2e we are 

TA: ii wouldnt baiil on you for 2uch an obviiou2ly iimportant mii22iion 

TA: ehehehe

EB: thank god! i thought you’d never log on. 

EB: as if i’m not THE most important person in your life!

TA: yeah yeah just be on tiiime 

TA: you know my 2chedule i2 a2 tiight a2 my codiing

EB: whatever! 

EB: i’ll bring takeout

TA: get the viietname2e 2hiit

EB: fiine, mr picky.

 

\--

 

He bites his lip when he’s concentrating on something.

It seems to be a stereotypical trait of every bespectacled dork on the planet, along with messy black hair and the brightest blue eyes on this goddamn blue planet. On Alternia, those eyes meant highblood alert, bow down and fucking submit, and maybe there’s something fun about that fact when the other half of your mind tells you that you wouldn’t mind completely dominating him either. Of course, you’re a slut for the perfectly split mix of emotions. Your fingers waver a little as they type, wanting to just flit over and maybe wiggle up John’s thighs.

 

He bites his lip, taps his pencil on the paper in front of him, then sighs and throws the pencil idly over to you, where you catch it mid-air. Perks of having a little something called “psiioniics”. Potentially, you could crush it with an electrical blue beam (same color as his eyes, you’d brag if you could), but instead you don’t and throw it back at his ill-timed snort.

 

“Hey, you can’t blame me! This is some impossible shit, I don’t even think you know how to do it.”

 

“Don’t be fucking stupid, JE.” You tease him and pick up the pencil with your psionics again, scribbling something quick on the paper without looking down. “Of course I know how to solve this, what do you take me for, some subpar piece of coding noob? You’re never going to get anything from me with that attitude. Besides, why are we writing on paper. Coding is for a little something called the computer.”

 

You’ve got a forked tongue and uneven teeth, weapons that carve the words of Alternian perfectly, but manage to mangle English in the way only a forked tongue and uneven teeth can. You could still retain some pride, however, with the information that with those killer red/blue beams you would probably make the best conspicuent dealer this side of wherever the fuck.

 

“I can’t write it directly on the computer, ok? It messes with my thinking. And well, you still did it though, and I guess I have to thank you now.” He gigglesnorts (how is that biologically possible) and opens up his laptop, copying down the tricky lines of code back into the device.

 

“There, it should run now! Thank god, I thought the teacher was going to kill me if I didn’t catch on soon. And now, we feast!” He dangles the Vietnamese take-out box in front of your nose. An easy catch for you, but play with it a little bit more before impatiently snapping it out of John’s hands.

  
“God, do you always have to play silly games? This is stupid,” you remark before popping open the box and also your laptop for good measure. “You know, while you’re here, I have half a mind to teach you the entire course. You need it, by the looks of it.”

 

“Ew no! I came here to finish my stupid homework and gossip over Vietnamese, not LEARN. How dare you even suggest that?” John mumbles through a mouthful of noodles and meat. “Hacker guys.” He concludes with a disdainful sigh.

 

“Oh no you didn’t just diss me.  I’m going to force this script down your throat.” You shove your chair closer to his, snapping open the laptop, mouth open and ready to fucking deliver a coding course that would shame all other courses done by college student aliens from a different universe.

 

He gets there first, swooping his head up to give you a small peck on the lips. Not enough to shut you up, but enough for your opening line to completely melt out of your head. Like hell he’s going to get away with that, you decide, and catch his face as it backs away, cheeks slightly red as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done either.

 

You kiss him back, and it’s everything. Fireworks, sparkles, the whole sha-bam. Your eyes flicker softly and you pull him closer by his neck. John seems to have figured out that the longer that he keeps your mouth in his, the longer your impromptu course will be delayed.

 

Sneaky bastard. He’s going to get away with it, too.

 

Trolls and humans were definitely not meant to be compatible with each other, and nowhere else is that more obvious than the way that your thin, pointy canines scratch accidently into John’s pink, soft lips. You have to fumble a bit and tilt your head a couple of ways before you can figure out exactly how to make kissing seem like less of a death trap. John seems to be fine on his end, though. He’s shy with it, in comparison to the pencil-flinging John Egbert who was all ready to fight you if you tried to jam even a little more knowledge into his head. Speaking of which, your hands are still on his face, and on a nice inhale between smooches you curl your fingers into the mild curls of his hair, small electric sparks tingling along your arms.

 

John nearly flinches back that time, but he’s curious enough to stay and watch the light show, apparently. The sparks do your job for you, and not very surprisingly, they tingle around the base of John’s shirt as you lazily attempt to pull it up. He mumbles something about you being a ‘lucky stiff’, and breaks away for a second to pull his shirt off, a gross strand of spit dangling from the edge of his lips.

“Wow, nasty,” you lisp between breaths and somehow your shirt is off too, boom, mitosis. Your shirt gets caught on your horns, and John has to reach over to save you from shirt prison. And you get to cop a feel in the meantime.

 

Honestly, if he was expecting to wait a bit until the next strike, then he didn’t know you that well. Total intimacy sounded like a great thing to experience about right now. His eyes widen slightly as alien teeth go back to needily gasping at his lips, his blue glasses still on and dangling precariously from the tip of his nose. Your glasses are still on too, so what can you say about it? Thin, fine lenses of red and blue, filtering your vision enough to adjust to the weird temporal glare of Earth. Thankfully, John isn’t the kind of person who’d nag if you just... kept it on.

 

Fingers fumble at the clasps of each others’ jeans, John barely stifling a giggle as his fingers bounce around the shiny bright button, and you muttering in equal parts embarrassment and excitement, an endless stream of “fuck ye2” as the blue-eyed boy finds a way to overcome your meat-grinder of a mouth and essentially end up leading the way your lips and tongue move, around and around his own.

 

“Sollux, I, ah,” He pushes you away for a second, and you pause, wondering if you set something off. You raise your hand almost instinctively, reaching out a comforting hand, but he holds it back with his own hand, and curls his fingers around yours. With a mischievous smile, his other hand scrabbles around until it finds a plastic fork lying abandoned on the table, and very calmly he takes a bite of vegetable and chews it (the time he takes is agonizing, and you swear if anyone could see your eyes then they’d see one eyelid twitching immaculately in time to his jaw movements) before he finally, finally kisses you again.

 

“What the fuck was that for? Your mouth tastes gross now,” you complain as you practically lick the taste off of his teeth.

 

“Sorry, not. I get hungry, okay?” He complains, and the way that he looks in your cross-eyed vision right now, hair all ruffled and mouth panting gently onto your own, appeals to you so much so you just shrug and keep at it, pulling John onto your lap, fingers inching down to the jeans again.

 

You have enough courage to unflinchingly pull of his pants, and you warm up the sparks on your fingers before doing so. You only get them partially off, however, before the door slams open and Roxy Lalonde makes her grand entrance, arms loaded with bags of chips and soda, all ready to fall out of her hands as she gasps at the sight of you and John, red leeching onto her cheeks.

 

“Sup John, Sollux, here’s some chips and soda,” She states the obvious, then shrugs because really, what else can she say? “I’d ask to join the party, but y’know what they say, two’s company, three’s a crowd, right?” Her cheeks are still red, but she’s giggle-snorting now, and you and John are made the utterly mortified ones. John is scrambling to push your hands away from his jeans, and you reluctantly let go.

 

“I mean--” you start.

  
“Just, uh--” John cuts you off.

 

You both look at each other, and burst out laughing.

 

“I mean, RX, you kind of just destroyed my enormous boner there, thanks,” you mutter lightly, which earns you another giggle-snort and your shirt thrown over you.

 

“Listen, I’d love helping you get that boner back, Sol, but we’re gonna get rudely interrupted by Mr. Strider, hope you know.” Roxy starts opening the chip bags, eying John as he pulls on his shirt of his own accord. You sigh and pull yours on too, and you gesture to John that could mean both ‘You’re going to have to listen to me code now’ or ‘Your ass is mine as soon as Roxy passes out on the couch after the fourth bag of processed cheese puffs’. He snorts back at you, and turns to Roxy again.

 

“Why’s Dave coming over? Did he leave his jacket with Karkat again?” You share your room with Karkat, and you’d know if Dave left some of his hipster clothes behind, which he hadn’t. You shrug back at John as Roxy explains.

 

“No, not Dave, I meant Dirk! Dave’s busy with his own things,”

 

“Dirk? Well, what’s he doing, coming to my house on the night when I was about to ‘get some’?” You hear a slightly muffled “Sollux that’s rude!” from behind you.

 

“Oh, but you’re fine with me here? Guess I should feel flattered, huh?” Roxy sticks out her tongue and passes you a cup of orange soda.

 

“Yeah, actually. You’re alright?” shrugs John with a noncommittal grin-shrug combo, but Roxy looks downright excited.

 

“Does this mean that I get to cuddle the fuck out of you two? Hell yes, I’m totally in. Go on, do that touching bodies stuff you were doing, except I get to help you. In the non-romantic way?” She smiles, wiggling her fingers in your general direction with a wink.

 

Tonight is going to be the best night ever.

 


End file.
